What Katrin did to me that day was simply astonishing—so vivid, alive, and sincere that I felt plunged into a whirlwind of emotions and sensations that completely overwhelmed me, as if an ocean of passion and tenderness was washing over me. Every movement, every glance, every breath of hers filled me with thrill, making my heart beat faster and stronger, as if it wanted to burst out of my chest. This woman, whom I loved madly, was the source of my inspiration and happiness, and her energy literally lifted me to a new level of experience. She didn't give me a second of rest, demanding speed, as if the night itself was urging us with its rhythm—and I gladly obeyed, dissolving in her fire and sensuality.
The way Rebel Girl moaned my name all the time left me thinking of nothing but her body—soft, alive, and so desirable—and of my own desires, which flared up and blazed more strongly with every passing minute, like a wildfire that could not be extinguished. In every breath of hers, there was thirst and passion, and in my heart grew a sense of pride and happiness that I could give her such moments. I felt how we merged into one, and it was astonishing, almost magical.
I fully understood that it was I who brought her to this state—to the edge of passion and pleasure. Realizing this gave me immense pleasure, and I was proud of myself, proud that I could be such an important, special person for her, someone who awakened the brightest feelings in her. In that moment, it felt as if everything around us ceased to exist—only the two of us and the fire burning between us, warming and illuminating our reality.
Of course, Katrin could not resist doing something special. First, she wanted to take off her dress and dance almost naked with me—a bold yet sensual gesture that drove me crazy. In her movements, there was incredible freedom and lightness, and I felt her body speaking to me in the language of passion and trust. Of course, the fault was mine, because I hadn't considered that this dress was completely unsuitable for lambada—it restricted movement and felt tight—but I was so focused on preparation that I didn't even think about it. On the other hand, I liked it so much that I just wanted her to wear it that night—so that the night would stay in memory forever, so that every moment carried our unique story.
I really enjoyed the dress maneuver, and dancing with her in that half-naked state was even more pleasurable than the first time—there was a special intimacy and freedom that was hard to describe in words. I felt her trust, her openness, and it made me tremble with happiness and gratitude for such closeness. In her eyes, there was a spark of pleasure and love, and I wanted to keep that moment forever.
The bed… At first, I thought she didn't like it because she hesitated and didn't know what to say. But when she expressed such words of gratitude toward me, I was almost speechless—they were so sincere, warm, and full of love. It was so wonderful to hear from the one I loved that she valued me and loved me. I never thought that that date could make her say so many kind words to me. I knew that every word was pure truth, visible in her eyes and voice, with such tenderness, with such depth.
I wanted to delight her even more with such dates—give her moments of happiness that she would remember for life, filled with the light and warmth of our feelings. Ideas were already forming in my mind, not fully ready yet, but bright and inspiring, like glimpses of the future happiness we would build together.
I also needed to thank my mom, because she helped me a lot. All that time I had been texting her, and when she had free time, she gave me advice—simple but valuable, like support in difficult moments. Besides this, Mom agreed to look after Mary until around the next morning, lunch, or dinner—I wasn't exactly sure when I would wake up with my beloved, so we hadn't discussed the exact time. This was such important help, and I felt gratitude that Mom was nearby, supporting me, and perhaps believing in my happiness—or at least not interfering.
I chose the dress entirely myself, according to my taste. My mom said it was a bit revealing, but overall she liked it. I also thought it was too open, and I probably wouldn't have let Rebel Girl wear it in public. However, I enjoyed looking at her in it very much. Our date was private, and I was the only man who saw her in it. Later, I helped her take off the dress—and it was so intimate and touching that it stayed in memory forever. That was why I gave her that dress—as a symbol of our special connection, our secret, our trust.
I am jealous, though my beloved rarely sees it. But inside, there is a little fear that she will leave me or be taken away. This anxiety sometimes quietly sneaks in, squeezing my heart, causing a wave of worry. I do not want to lose her, because, even though Katrin doesn't think so, she is the best thing that has ever happened in my life. This thought sometimes makes my heart tighten, and I am ready to do everything to preserve our happiness, to protect what we have built together, to always be near and give her the love she deserves.
Rebel Girl sleeps peacefully, holding me, her breath even and calm, her warm body pressed against mine with such tenderness that I involuntarily smile, feeling this quiet happiness inside—so light and at the same time deep, like a cozy corner of the soul where there is no place for worries. In her embrace, I feel not only the warmth of skin but the unspoken trust, the fragility of a moment I want to keep forever.
I carefully, almost afraid to disturb this fragile world, stand and quietly go around the corner of the roof, where the garland still twinkles—the soft, almost magical light creates an atmosphere of coziness and fairy tale, as if the whole world pauses just for the two of us, as if time slows down to give us this serenity. In this moment, I feel a sense of safety and calm, as if I am the guardian of our little secret.
Turning off the garland, I approach the table and twist the bottle of alcohol, feeling a light excitement fill me again—the anticipation of new emotions, bold conversations, and unforgettable moments. My heart beats slightly faster, as if reminding me that even in familiar places, life can give unexpected experiences.
Returning, I find the keys and, like the guard of our little fortress, I lock us on the roof so that no one disturbs our idyll—this is a gesture of care and protection, a desire to preserve our intimacy and peace. Every click of the lock sounds like a promise that right now, on this little patch of roof, it's just us, and nothing can break this harmony.
Although she is, so to speak, common property, I have to buy her out to be able to hold our meetings here. The building owner is initially completely against my date on the roof, as if he doesn't want this place to become part of our story, as if he fears it will stop being ordinary and turn into something special and personal. But when I offer him a good sum, his anger turns into favor, and he gladly hands the roof over to my control—as if granting me permission to create our own world here, hidden from prying eyes, where we can be ourselves without hesitation.
I like this place, and I don't mind holding many more dates here—each time filling it with new meaning and sensations, as if weaving a delicate fabric of our shared story from the moments.
And knowing that my little one enjoys it here as well lifts me, inspiring new ideas, plans, and dreams connected to this special corner. My heart fills with warmth and pride—because this place becomes not just a roof over our heads, but a symbol of our unity and happiness, a corner where we can be truly ourselves.